The Wednesday Shift
by Celestia0909
Summary: [L/J] [MODERN UNIVERSITY AU] Bartender, James Potter is covering for his skiving mate, Sirius' shift. He expects nothing but misery until an unexpected customer walks into the pub.


**The Wednesday Shift**

-x-

**[L/J] [MODERN UNIVERSITY AU]**

Bartender, James Potter is covering for his skiving mate, Sirius' shift. He expects nothing but misery until an unexpected customer walks into the pub.

* * *

James Potter hated working on Wednesdays.

They were quiet, boring, and the only customers who ever seemed to come into the pub on Wednesday nights were old people and drunkards. Neither of which were groups of people that presented him with any prospective dates.

And yet, here he was on the third consecutive Wednesday, covering for his idiot best mate, Sirius', shift because apparently he had an important lecture to attend at his college. Which was really just a coverup for him wanting to skive off and get pissed at the other pub down the road with his their other mates from uni. The unmitigated prat that he was.

"Hi."

The woman who had taken a seat opposite him was absolutely gorgeous, and for a moment he was stunned as she dropped her laptop, textbooks, and a small bag on the counter. The Hogwarts sweater she wore, with a golden '2019' embroidered to the left of her chest, told him she was in his year, and he was stunned as she cast her eyes to him. Green eyes bordered by long lashes disarmed him and made his knees feel as wobbly as they'd looked when he was a teenager.

"Hey," his voice sounded breathless. Why did his voice sound so breathless?

"Can I get a drink?"

"You _are _aware you're in a pub, aren't you?"

The lovely woman looked around the bar with her wide emerald eyes, a discerning look on her face before she turned back to him, a small smile on her pale face, "Yes, it seems I am. So does this pub have a drinks list? Or are cheeky comebacks the only thing you serve here?"

James bent down and nicked a couple of drinks lists from a tray near the ice, sliding it unceremoniously across the bar top to his new patron, "You've just missed happy hour, but I'm in a generous mood."

"What a gentleman," she smirked, resting her elbow on the bar and propping her cheek on her propped up hand. He shrugged and she returned to browsing the list of drinks.

While she was looking away, he had a chance to survey her face properly, and he found that he quite liked what - or rather, whom - he was looking at. Deep auburn hair, with fine strands of blonde and gold tumbled behind her back in waves. Her forehead was covered in an overgrown fringe, and he liked the way it skimmed along the tops of her eyes.

He had never seen eyes like hers, and he wished she'd look away from the drinks list so he could see them again. They weren't just green, they were emerald, and jade, and moss, and every shade of green mixed into one. He felt the all too familiar tug in his stomach that bubbled when he fancied a girl, and confusion clouded his mind as she hummed along to a familiar tune that played through the speakers.

She wasn't even his type, nowhere near it even. Usually he preferred blondes who liked country sports, not redhead alcoholics who went to bars on Wednesday evenings.

"It's rude to stare," she mumbled playfully before looking away from the drinks list and at him instead. As if her looks weren't enough to capture his attention, she seemed like the sort of person with lightning fast wit too.

"I wasn't staring." He was, he totally was. His cheeks felt hot and not for the first time was he glad that he had decided to grow his beard out, even if it was itchy as hell. At least she wouldn't see him blushing.

"Yes you were."

"No I wasn't."

"Are we really doing this?" She brushed her fringe from side to side with her fingers, and James watched as her thick eyebrow quirked upwards quizzically at him.

"I guess not, but for the record, I was _not_ staring."

She looked unconvinced but she shook her head and chuckled anyway, "What's in a Firewhiskey?"

"You don't want that."

"And why not?"

"Because my idiot mate, Sirius, made it and it's rubbish. It's only on there because I lost a bet."

"It can't be that bad, sounds sort of _exotic_." She was right about that at least.

The Firewhiskey cocktail, which his mate Sirius had been totally bonkers for for making, consisted of a shot of jalapeno infused gin, a shot of bell pepper scotch, and topped off with ginger ale. He had only tried it once, and it was just about the worst thing he had ever tasted. Not only did the alcohol burn his throat, the overpowering taste of raw jalapeno almost made him cry too.

Sirius insisted that it was inspired by his wild and depraved weekend away with a Colombian exchange student named Frida. But James knew that he had nicked the recipe from Pinterest. Sirius had never even _met_ anyone from Colombia or any other neighbouring South American country - much less one named Frida with whom he'd shared a lust-filled weekend away.

"Trust me, I've had it, it's shite. What you'll _really_ want to try is the Butterbeer, it's a favourite around here."

She looked back down at the drinks list and her eyes widened with interest upon reading it; he didn't really blame her for her reaction to be honest. The Butterbeer recipe was his crowning glory, and it was an explosion of vanilla soda, treacle, toffee, and maybe just a hint of prosecco.

"Alright, I'll bite. Go on then, I'll take two of those."

"Two? Had a rough day then?"

"Oh god no, but I'd feel awful drinking all by my lonesome without you joining me."

"You do realise that _not_ drinking while watching other people drink is my job, yeah?"

"Shush, are you going to join me or what?"

James did a mock salute and grinned before turning around and grabbing two bottles of Butterbeer from the bar fridge. He wasn't going to say no to this woman, not when she was so convincing and had such _sound_ logic.

He jimmied the bottle caps off the two bottles, and she whistled, impressed, at his apparent bottle opening skills. It wasn't that impressive though, opening bottles of beer was his job. James slid the bottle to her and she thanked him before taking a gingerly sip from the bottle, her face devoid of any emotion that would give away her disgust or enjoyment.

"So, do you like it or not?"

"Mmm," she hummed, her forefinger twirling around the bottle opening. "It's definitely sweet."

"You hate it, don't you?"

"I don't hate it, it's just, I've never tasted anything like it." As if to alleviate the sting of her possibly insulting him, she took a long swig from the bottle.

James was embarrassed to admit that he stared when a rogue drop of golden liquid escaped from the bottle and trickled down her chin and neck, disappearing underneath her jumper. In his defense, he didn't want her top to be ruined; and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that her skin looked soft and freckly, and definitely _not _because he wanted to wipe the drop of Butterbeer off her skin himself.

"So, do you also moonlight as a uni student? Or are you a full-time bartender?" she finally said, making him jolt awake from his apparent lustful trance.

"Fine arts," he admitted nonchalantly. He wasn't used to seeing many other students at the bar, and was surprised that she was one. Usually students just stayed within their own college bars, and the only reason he worked here was because he got sick of all the toffs at his college. Besides, he promised his mum he'd help out while she was away. "You?"

"How quaint."

"Quaint?" James reiterated, his eyebrow cocked as he leaned his arms against the bartop.

"Well, maybe not _quaint_, that was the wrong word. But it just makes sense that you'd be an arts student."

"Is it the facial hair?" Why was he even asking, it was _always_ the facial hair. He'd tried to keep it as short and manicured as he could so he would look more like a younger version of David Beckham rather than the university provost, Sir Albus Dumbledore. She nodded. "And correction, not an _arts_ student, a _fine_ arts student. There _is_ a difference you know; don't group me in with the rest of the rahs at my college."

"And which college is that?"

"Gryffindor." Her eyebrows and nose scrunched together at his admission and he smirked. He was quite used to that reaction when he told people which college he was at. "Oi, we aren't all bad you know."

"I _suppose_ you aren't all that bad; if you're into entitled ponces with too much money and not enough going on upstairs." She took another sip of her beer, accompanied by a sardonic smirk.

"You must be talking about the other ninety-nine percent of Gryffindors because _I_ like to think I've got more than enough going on upstairs, _and_ downstairs I hope."

"Cheeky," she teased as she toyed with the gold necklace that hung dangerously low on her chest. "Does your mother know you're dropping these despicable lines on unsuspecting girls in pubs?"

"Probably, seeing as she owns the bloody place."

"Christ, that explains why you've no problem with drinking on the job then," she teased, as she raised her bottle of Butterbeer and smirked. Minx.

"If she ever finds out that I was, which she won't, and even if she does she won't care because I'm the prodigal son, I'll just tell her that an alcoholic ginger broke in and coerced me into having a bottle or two lest she murder me in my sleep." He winked and he felt triumphant as a healthy pink blush creeped along her chest and neck. "By the way, don't think I haven't noticed that you've not answered my question. Spit it out, what do you study?"

"I thought that conversation was over."

"Your reluctance at answering leads me to believe that you either hate your degree, or that you're somewhat embarrassed to admit what you're studying." She looked down at her drink and James watched with curiosity as she circled her finger over the top of the bottle. Bingo. "So which is it - embarrassment or regret?"

"You're kind of nosy and kind of infuriating, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Once or twice...per day that it is. But I like to think of it as charming and curious - more endearing isn't it? So, come on spit it out!"

Ginger - which he had now decided to call her until he'd found out her name, folded her arms and looked at him defiantly. He stared back at her with equal vigour and he seriously hoped that nobody came into the pub or ruined the little moment they were having. She was losing this little stand-off and he was so close to finding out what she was studying and where.

The corners of her lips twitched and James could've sworn that her eyes relaxed from their frown, just a smidge.

"Alright _fine_, you win! I'm studying the greats - classic literature."

He hadn't expected that - not even a little bit. She certainly didn't _look _like the type of girl who'd be into the greats: she was actually decent looking, and there were no gawky glasses or mismatched socks in sight. He'd expected her to say she was studying law or political science or something that he'd thought _all_ the fit girls at uni studied. But not the greats.

"You must be in Ravenclaw then?" She nodded. "You don't look like someone from there."

"Yes, well I left my nana glasses at home along with my cat. So sorry to disappoint."

"Christ, if I'd known that there were _actually_ fit girls in Ravenclaw, and not just mad cat ladies who are obsessed with anime, I might've made the trek over to your college sooner. Mind you, I've heard shoddy things about it, is it true that it's where fun goes to die?"

"There's nothing wrong with cats _or_ anime!" James could tell that she barely believed her own words and a smirk fought to appear on her face. "And honestly, if I had a shilling for every time someone says that fun goes to die at our college, I'd probably be able to _afford_ to go to yours!"

"Oh come off it, our fees aren't anywhere _near_ as exorbitant as Slytherin's."

"Do you really want to compare your college to theirs?" James thought about it for a moment and shook his head. He hated Slytherin College, _they_ were the entitled ones. "Didn't think so; and besides, Slytherin doesn't have a deer park, last I checked that's all _your_ college."

James took a swig of his beer and fixed his glasses as he leaned forward and smirked at her, "But that doesn't change the fact that Ravenclaw is a cemetery for fun."

"We have fun!"

"Oh yeah, because weekly trivia and riddle solving nights are comparable to the sorts of parties every other college throws - especially mine. Admit it Ginge - your college's social functions are bog standard. Dare I say, _below_ bog standard."

"University isn't all about parties and getting rip roaring drunk you know. It is actually a place for learning." James shook his head at her rebuttal and even he could tell that she was running out of reasons why her college wasn't absolutely shit at socials. "And did you call me Ginge?"

"Yeah, because the learning and classes and lectures are what I'll be telling my children about when they want me to wax lyrical about my days at uni." James smiled smugly at her and could see in her eyes that he'd won. He downed the little bit of remaining Butterbeer in his bottle. "And I did call you Ginge, what else am I supposed to call you? I don't know your name yet!"

In the two seconds he'd been under the bar to put away his bottle, she had removed her jumper and folded it neatly atop her pile of textbooks and laptop. If he had thought he was in trouble before, he was in deep and utter shit now. The creamy freckled skin that had peeked out from underneath her v neck jumper was now completely on show thanks to her nude woollen vest underneath.

"Y-you took your top off."

Ginger looked down at her torso and back up at him, a flirty smile on her face, "I don't think so, definitely still got my top on. That Butterbeer must've messed up your head."

"I think _you're_ the one messing up my head."

"You don't even know my name."

"No, I don't. Bit of a pity that, do you mind telling me?"

"Lily, Lily Evans." She stuck her hand out over the counter top and offered it to him to shake. James stared at it for a few seconds, his mind running amok with depraved thoughts before his good sense emerged and forced him to shake her hand.

He hadn't expected her to have such calloused hands, especially not since the skin on her arms, neck, and chest looked so soft. As he shook her hand up and down once, twice, then thrice, the hairs on the back of his neck stood from the feeling of her hand in his. There were no fireworks, no choir music telling him that she was his destined, but the tingles of attraction that ran along his hand and up his arm were definitely hard to ignore.

And christ was he attracted to her.

"Are you going to tell me your name too, or are you just going to keep shaking my hand until it's gone limp?"

As if he'd been stung by a bee, James tore his hand away from hers and looked away as he spoke, "James Potter."

"James, I've always loved that name." A traitorous blush heated James' cheeks and he shrugged as she began to gather her things together.

"You're not leaving are you?"

Lily looked up from her gathered books and at him, her green eyes startled and a smirk playing on her lips.

"I was actually, or I _am_," she specified, pushing her hair behind her left ear, revealing a dangling pair of star shaped earrings. "Unless you've a better idea?"

James glanced at the booth that seated the only other customers and back at her. The booth of students had been at the pub for four hours, and none of them had bothered ordering anymore than one drink each. As far as James was concerned he could kick them out and shut up shop to spend time with Lily - with whom he was already besotted.

"Give me five minutes."

"Is this your way of asking me out?"

"If I _ask_ you out, you might say no. So instead, I'll just tell you to stay right where you are." Lily, lovely Lily, shook her head, a playful smile on her flushed face. And if James wasn't already attracted to her, he sure was now. "I mean it Lily Evans, _don't_ go anywhere."

Lily crossed her heart and winked at him as he slung a fresh tea towel over his shoulder and made his way towards the booth of the three young blokes. After a rather awkward conversation, and some rather put out comments about terrible service from the three of them, James ushered them out of the pub and flipped the wooden sign on the little window next to the door.

He collected the glasses and dirty plates from the booth table and gave it a quick wipe before shoving them all into the bar sink with reckless abandon. Sirius had the shift tomorrow, and quite frankly it was his problem to clean everything up before opening up. The wanker deserved it for skiving off his shift.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone clean up as fast as you," Lily teased, her voice smug. She had put her jumper back on and James lamented at her covered skin. "Aren't you going to wash those up?" She pointed at the bar sink full of dirty glasses and dishes, and James shrugged.

"My mate Sirius was supposed to be working tonight, but he skived off on account of him apparently having an important lecture."

James shrugged his coat on and helped Lily with her things, offering to carry her laptop and books for her. It was the chivalrous thing to do after all.

"Ahh of course, using uni as a crutch for skiving off - it's the oldest trick in the book."

"You're telling me, I swear if he wasn't my pseudo-brother, and if my mum wasn't so adamant about treating him like her second son, he'd be unemployed at this point."

"Well between you and I, I'm pretty chuffed that your mate Sirius skived off tonight," she added as James led her towards the door and shut off the lights and music. "Might have had to go out with him instead of you."

"Can you imagine? You'd have to endure sexual innuendos all night!"

"Maybe I _like_ sexual innuendos Potter."

"Don't make me laugh Evans."

James led them both out of the pub, casting one last cursory glance over the place before turning off most of the lights and locking the door.

"So, where to now?"

James turned away from the door and was momentarily stunned by how close she stood in front of him. Under the warm honeyed glow of the streetlights, Lily looked like some celestial being from the heavens; and boy did it disarm him. His heart seemed to have forgotten how to beat at a regular pace, his palms felt sweaty, and his mouth felt dry as a coy smile crept onto her creamy freckled face.

"I-uh-y-"

"Are you okay? Has the fresh air made you go completely bonkers?" she joked as she waved her hands in front of his face and snapped her fingers at him. "Ground control to James Potter, do you hear me James?"

"Would it be completely unseemly of me to say that you look absolutely radiant tonight?"

A rosy blush coloured her cheeks and James felt a twang of pride at his having caused that reaction on her as he shuffled forward.

"You're such a prat."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am _not_."

"Are too!"

"Are we really going to argue like kids again?" James said as he took yet another step towards her until he could feel her breath in the space between them - it smelt like Butterbeer.

"I-I suppose not," Lily replied, her voice breathless and quiet as a whisper. "Your eyes are hazel, I couldn't tell inside. Thought they might be green."

James smiled as she stared at him, her eyes darting to his mouth, "Lily?"

"Yes?" she sighed, her breath washing over his face as she gazed at him from.

"If we don't leave now, I may be forced to ask you for a kiss."

"What's so wrong with that?" her voice took on a huskier tone and James licked his lips as he ran his hand nervously through his mass of hair.

"Call me a romantic, but I believe in kissing girls _after_ I've taken them out for at least a drink."

"Oh." Lily looked down at her feet and James felt like a bona fide wanker at having embarrassed her. He opened his mouth to apologise but was taken aback when she suddenly looked back up at him, a triumphant smile on her face. "But don't you see what's wrong with your logic?"

"_Just_ because I'm a studying fine arts, doesn't mean you can take the piss out of my logic - cheeky bird."

Lily snorted in a rather unladylike way at him and shook her head.

"You misunderstand what I mean."

"Oh, yeah?" James furrowed his brows at her, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose a little bit at the action. "How so?"

"What were we doing inside?" Lily gestured at the pub.

"Chatting and having a drink?"

"And did you even let me pay for any of them?"

James' frown grew deeper as he stared at her, completely boggled at what she was going on about, "Of course not, bloody shouted you drinks didn't I!"

"Don't you see?" James shook his head, unconvinced and completely confused. "You _have _taken me out for a drink."

"So what?"

"You know, I think you should trade in your black hair for blonde at the rate you're going."

"I've always been pretty shit at puzzles and logic games - never bl-" James was interrupted when Lily's hand clamped over his mouth. The pads of her fingers were calloused and her palm a bit clammy but mostly cold as his lips touched her skin.

"Kiss me," she asked as she lifted her hand from his mouth and took a step towards him, the tips of their shoes now touching.

"Are you serious?"

"_I'm_ Lily, Sirius is your skiving friend."

And like the straw that broke the camel's proverbial back, James lost all coherent thought as he leaned down and kissed her, a shy kiss - one that was both full of yearning and curiosity, like all first kisses usually are. It was by no means the _best_ first kiss he had ever had with a girl in his life, but there was something rather enchanting about the whole thing when all the elements were combined.

The honey golden glow of the street lights, the cool autumn breeze that swirled flame hued leaves around their ankles, the clear starry sky as it glittered above them, and the feeling of them being in a world entirely suspended from time itself. For years to come, James would remember this kiss with Lily Evans as not the best, but the most _magical_ he had ever experienced. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone but her of course.

When they finally did break apart, James felt the loss of her warmth immediately and he counted to three before opening his eyes - afraid of losing the moment. But when he did open his eyes, his worry was for naught. Lily's eyes were closed and her hair was a little mussed up from when he had buried his hands in it, her cheeks were flushed and somehow a few leaves had gotten caught on her scarf and coat, complementing the shade of her auburn hair.

"You have leaves in your hair," James whispered, gingerly picking the leaves off the strands of her hair. He could feel her eyes on him, and James tried to act nonchalant and cool, but his hands shook terribly as his hands brushed against her hair, and he was pretty sure he had a stupid dopey smile on his face anyway.

"I've never kissed anyone with facial hair," she admitted.

"Hope it didn't put you off doing it again?"

"What makes you think there'll be a second time?"

"Correct me if I'm mistaken, but aren't I supposed to be taking you out tonight? I bloody hope so mind you, otherwise I'll have a rubbish time of trying to explain to my mum why I decided to close the pub early and why I left a sink full of dirty glasses."

"You sure you shouldn't be studying law or something? You're awfully persuasive," she said suggestively as she took a step back away from him and smoothed her hands over her hair.

"Ah yes, well I _did_ try it out for dad's sake, but bloody buggered off after a year. Turns out you can't treat the readings as optional while studying to be a wig." He shrugged. "But I digress, so, are we going out to the Indian place down the road, or would you prefer a fine dining establishment?"

Lily bit her bottom lip as she looked at him, a cheeky suggestive twinkle in her eyes. James was positively sweating as she took her time to reply to him, and he shoved his hands into his pockets as she finally opened her mouth, "Yeah alright Potter, let's get loaded up on tikka masala and vindaloo then."

Which is _exactly _what they did; much to his delight and bewilderment at having struck gold.

* * *

-x-

* * *

The morning after James thoroughly regretted indulging in so much curry, his stomach was churning uncomfortably and he was constantly unsure of whether it was gas or something worse that was threatening to burst out of his arse.

Strangely enough however, his digestive issues were barely a worry for him as memories of the evening before played over in his mind. Memories of Lily; meeting her at the pub, kissing her in the street, eating Indian until they were hurried out of the restaurant, and roaming the streets of Hogsmeade together until nothing but the owls, stars and moon kept them company.

He checked his phone hurriedly and sighed in relief at the sight of her name and photo in her contacts list. Once his stomach had calmed down, and he had properly woken up, James would call her up - or maybe text her - and ask her out again.

As James dropped his phone back onto his bedside table, a sleepy satisfied smile on his face, he shut his eyes and began falling back to sleep. Which he would have, had his phone not decided to vibrate violently from a text someone sent him.

He debated not checking, but his curiosity got the better of him as he lazily slid his glasses on and opened his new text - apparently one from Sirius.

The text contained one photo of a dirty sink piled with glasses, shakers, an ice tray, and some dishes. Accompanying the photo, a strongly worded message from his best friend sent two minutes ago:

_You're such a wanker - mum P gave me an absolute ribbing this morning u were supposed to have MY back you TWAT! Hat billion - u are uninvited from poker night GIT_

The next text after the first was sent just one minute ago:

_p.s. Checked the shop CCTV - who's the fit bird you strutted off with? does fit bird have a friend for me? did you shag ;))))_

James was both amused and scandalised at his friend's texts, but surprised he was not. Lacking the energy to reply to his friend, James rolled his eyes at the texts and was about to put his phone away properly before it buzzed in his hand and told him that Lily had sent him a text, a rather lovely long one at that:

_Thank you for the lovely evening (and early morning?) and for walking me home - you must have racked up at least 10,000 steps from just taking me home, bit of a walk between Rclaw and Gryff! My friend told me to wait for your text, and to definitely NOT send the first one - but I forgot to ask you something last night - and this might be completely inappropriate because i only JUST met you last night...anyway, would you like to come to my sister's engagement party with me today? It's a lunch thing, her fiance is a total bore. I can't guarantee great party guests - but there's free nosh and booze which is the main reason I'm going anyway! _

James had only just finished reading the lengthy text before another one appeared from her:

_TL;DR Please come with me to my sister's engagement party - free food and drinks, and a free trip to dreary Little Whinging :))) xo_

As if he hadn't already decided to go, the little x and o that were tacked on to the end of her text were reason enough for him to agree to a day trip to Surrey, even if he did hate how bourgeois the place was. James stretched his legs out underneath his blanket, and apologised at his disgruntled cat Rembrandt's hiss of indignation at being disturbed.

James looked back at his phone and smiled as his fingers hurriedly typed a reply:

_See you in an hour - hope you've got a playlist ready for the drive to Surrey :) xx_

Swiping right on the message and returning to Sirius' and his thread of texts, James yawned as he sent a reply to his idiot friend:

_I owe you a drink and a proper explanation - lads night on Monday post-lecture? _

James didn't wait for a reply as he stretched and leapt out of bed in search of tablets for indigestion, a clean pair of trousers and a nice shirt.

His phone rang loudly on his bed and James smirked at his friend's face and name appearing on his screen - no doubt ready to beg for details about Lily.

But quite frankly, Sirius could wait; he had a party to go to, and he'd be damned if he looked like a hobo in the presence of Lily and her family.

* * *

-x-

* * *

The following week, James Potter was back at the pub on a Wednesday night once more. In the week that had passed, nothing had changed about his dislike of Wednesday night shifts; and if anything, he hated working on Wednesdays more than he had last week.

Wednesdays were dull, uneventful, and brought with it a distinct lack of interesting customers.

But, like the dutiful friend, here he was on the fourth consecutive Wednesday, covering for his idiot best mate, Sirius _again_. At least this time Sirius had the grace to be more upfront about skiving off his shift, and James knew he was at the St Catz mixer at the neighbouring university one town over.

All of six people had shown up since he'd taken over from Remus for the evening shift, and all of them were wankers from his rival college, Slytherin. If there was anything that James hated more than the Wednesday shift, it was Slytherins - so tonight was quite possibly as bad as it could get in terms of working at the pub.

But as he willed the clock above the door to tick faster, his fingers tapped against the wooden bartop as a little wooden bird popped out of the German cuckoo clock and announced that it was 9PM. Darting his eyes to the door of the pub, James grinned as a familiar figure appeared in the stained glass window and pushed the door open.

The last time they'd seen each other was on the weekend after her sister's engagement party, and whilst James had loved the sight of her in a pretty floral party dress, it was the sight of her in jeans and jumpers that made him completely enchanted with her.

A shy smile graced her face upon seeing him, and James pushed himself off the bartop as he waited for her to join him by the bar.

James Potter hated working the Wednesday shift, this much was true; but if it meant spending the better part of it with his new girlfriend, he'd be more than happy to let Sirius keep skiving off for mixers at women's university colleges.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Thank you for reading! As always don't forget to leave a review or feedback!

xoxo _Andy_


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